the slack daily

My So-Called Meta Life.

Y'know what I like to do when I can't sleep?  Google myself.  It's the quickest act of ego-onanism that the Internet allows.

My longtime readers are familiar with the Slackmistress-or-Diablo? phenomenon. Diablo herself even commented on the vlog.  And what I thought first was a joke became very real when even her stalker made a beeline for me at the NBC picket location.  I made the joke that I wanted my own stalker, so I could be stabbed on my own merits, thank you.

Cut to last night: during my google search, I find my name listed in The Pussy Ranch's comments section.

A reader of hers saw me at the Hollywood Rally and tried to get a good picture.  (Warning: picture is of my ass.  Clothed, thankfully.)  It's like personal faux paparazzi!*

*I should note that I am thankful that no one pointed out the obvious you're-30-pounds-heavier and the polar opposite writing career trajectory, and that I'm beyond flattered by the comparison.

The Slackmistress' Guide to Being Internet Famous.

Exhibit A:

Before Sunday, I had never heard the name Sarah Lacy.  However, after the SXSW keynote on Sunday in which she botched an interview with Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg (where nerds wielded iPhones like villagers used to wield pitchforks), she's now a well-known name amongst even the non-Digerati.

Exhibit B:

How much do you know about the people that write the movies you watch?   Okay, now how much do you know about doppelganger Diablo Cody?  While her career will always have the O-word -Oscar - attached, I doubt she'll ever be able to escape the S-word.  (Y'know, the one where you take your clothes off and shake it for cash.)

The Answer is Obvious:

I should conduct a train wreck interview with Guy Kawasaki at next years' SXSW.  Naked.

Close Encounters of the NON-Celebrity Kind: Diablo Cody, Part Three.

Further to my run-in with Diablo Cody's #1 Fan, I present to you video of the event to show you that I do not make this shit up:

I didn't realize my friend Patty was taping us until about halfway through the video.  At the end when you hear Tomàs answer that phone call?  He totally faked that to get me outta there.

Could I sound more nasally?

Diablo à Deux, or I'd Like to Get Stabbed on My Own Merit.

Back in November, at the beginning of the WGA Strike, I was mistaken for Juno screenwriter Diablo Cody.

 

I even provided a handy Slackmistress-or-Diablo? guide which you can find here or here.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Kate Coe at Mediabistro's Fishbowl-LA alerted me to a blog written by an aspiring screenwriter named Rodney.  Rodney, although not a member of the WGA, has been out on the picket lines supporting us.  Rodney also has nine things in common with Diablo Cody.

Rodney has been trying to get in touch with Diablo, presumably to share those nine things.  Rodney also has started to picket at NBC - the same place where I picket.

Today I showed up wearing something akin to the outfit I'm wearing in the picture above.  I arrived at the corner of Alameda and Olive when my friend Tomàs grabbed me.

That guy over there is obsessed with Diablo Cody, he told me.

Is that the guy with the blog? I asked.  Because that guy is cra--

Before I could finish, Tomàs exclaimed I can't believe it about your Oscar Nomination!  You're so young!  And to think you used to be a stripper.

Without missing a beat, I answered.  I know, but it's weird since they mention the stripper thing so much I always feel like everyone's trying to picture me naked.

The man made a beeline for me - so quickly, in fact, that I was convinced that I was about to be stabbed.   Those fleeting moments weren't about my husband or my dog, but the fact that I was about to be stabbed because this guy thought I was someone else. 

Dammit, I want to get stabbed on my own merits.

He stuck out his hand.  I'm Rodney, Diablo, I've been trying to get a hold of you, I sent you a message through MySpace.

He oozed insane but I felt terrible.  Plus I didn't want to get stabbed.  I'm sorry, I told him, it's a joke everyone plays on me when I show up.  People think I look like Diablo Cody, but I'm Nina. I stuck out my hand for him to shake.

Oh, he said, well, you look like her.  Are you a writer?

I am, I wrote for 17 episodes of Lizzie McGuire, as well as a bunch of animation, I told him.

Oh, I bet you're nice like her.

Um, thanks?  Well, good luck with your quest--

I have nine things in common with her, he continued.  D'you know we're both from Minnesota?

Actually I'm pretty sure she's from Illinois, she grew up not far from where I grew up, I told him.  So it's really more like eight things.

At this point Tomàs and our friends Patty and Arturo took a couple of photos* and dragged me to safety.

Diablo, I rode the crazy train as your amateur lookalike for you this time.  But next time, doll, you're on your own!

*Coming soon!

Strike Three!

A videoblog of mistaken identity on the WGA Picket Lines:

And a photo:

I've been on my feet since 5:15am, so I have a shower and a couch with my name on it.  An update on today...tomorrow.